


Pub Games

by rehliamonster



Series: The Games Series [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Monster sex, One Night Stands, Oneshot, PWP, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, dominant Grillby, reader is female, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9620705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rehliamonster/pseuds/rehliamonster
Summary: Grillby has his way with you on his bar.





	

You trail your fingers over the rim of your glass, watching the bartender in his tightly-cut vest polish a glass. You’re reasonably sure that this is a ruse to appear calm while he is nothing of the sort, a calming action to hide his agitation. The flames on his head are unsteady and alternating between rising high and burning low, a shifting back and forth that betrays his emotional state. 

Licking your lips causes the flames to rise and you enjoy the power you have over him. 

You’ve been at it for a while. 

The reviews for this bar had been excellent; no negatives at all, the worst one still praised the atmosphere and the owner, merely criticising the greasiness of the food, which is not what you came for. 

You came to have fun. 

_Fun_. 

Fun of a very special sort that you think you might be getting tonight if the state of the bartender is anything to go by. 

The low-cut dress hugs your figure and encourages any passer-by to take a closer look at what you have to display, the necklace dipping deep between the valley of your breasts, your high-heels shaping your legs. Nothing is left to the imagination. Just the way you wanted it for this evening.

Dating is boring, but in this monster bar called Grillby’s there’s something new to be had, something you haven’t experienced yet and that makes the challenge of trying to obtain it all the more fun for you. 

The game is on. 

Of course it still required patience. When you had entered there had been several options that interested you: a punk hamster, a red bird, a drunk bunny, a joke-telling skeleton, several dog monsters, a creature composed almost entirely of teeth. But they all couldn’t compare to the monster you found out is owner of the bar - a being made entirely of fire, of heat, of flickering light and warm, burning motion. It would have been easier to pursue one of the other patrons; it wouldn’t have entailed waiting in any way, shape or form. You could have just left with the monster of your choice. But for the owner of the bar, you had to wait until all the other patrons filed out. 

You’re the last one still here, and that’s exactly what you wanted. 

Grillby finishes cleaning the glass in his hands and stacks it carefully on the shelf where he keeps all the drinking glasses and bottles he uses for his alcoholic beverages, before starting on the next. That’s another thing you appreciate about this bar - the drinks are new. Whenever you frequent one of the many human bars in this town, you basically know the menu like the back of your hand. But here? It’s all new. Monster alcohol adds a new component even to drinks you already know, which means that there’s a plethora of new options for you to explore. Even if you don’t walk out of this with a new sexual experience under your belt, you’d still say that you enjoyed yourself. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean that you intend to waste this opportunity. 

You were so patient when you waited for the last of the regulars to file out, and now it’s just you and Grillby. You’re not going to waste this. 

“You must be closing up soon, right?” You ask the fiery monster, your gaze half lidded by both lust and alcohol. 

Grillby regards you and the glass in front of you critically, but eventually nods. You give him a challenging smile. 

“Good,” you purr. “Can I help you?”

“...help?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I could… lock the doors. Lower the blinds. Make sure we have some privacy,” you suggest with a wide smile. 

Grillby stares at you. His face is a mask of fire, but interestingly enough you’re still more than capable of making out his expressions. He’s eyeing your drink, your face, your chest, your waist. 

He’s attracted to you. 

He wants you. 

He’s trying to be reasonable and rational, but you’re getting to him. 

You allow your eyes to roam over the sharp lines of his jaw, the flickering contrast between his neck and his chest, the well-defined shape of his upper body and muscular arms. You bite your lower lip, flicking your eyes back up to the bright white pips that function as his eyes, catching the attraction and lust there when he focuses on your mouth before looking back into your eyes. 

You hold his gaze. Keep it trapped with the intent in your own eyes. Slide down the bar stool. You’re alone with him and you know what you want, and your body language is more than eloquent at communicating your desires to him. You walk to the front of the bar, one foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right, making your hips sway with the change from one side to the other as you stride forwards. 

The metal of the key is cool and smooth on your fingers when you grab it, turning back around to watch Grillby as you turn the key in the lock. He’s staring at you. Intently watching your every movement, the way your body shifts in your revealing dress. 

Your smile gets a little bit wider. 

Yes. 

_This_ is what you came here for. 

The bar locked, you stride sideways, closing the blinds until the bar is solely illuminated by the flickering light of Grillby’s fire. You stand opposite each other, a human and a monster, heated fire and heated flesh all alone in the empty room of a bar. His eyes undress you before his hands have the opportunity. 

When you stride towards him, it’s with purpose and poise, knowing exactly what each shift of your legs and hips is doing to his composure. The wooden bar separates you when you lean forwards, your breasts pillowing on the wooden countertop as you lean your head on your hand. You notice with satisfaction that his eyes don’t manage to stay on your face at the obvious display. 

“See? I helped,” you point out. Your smile is easy going. Easy to dismiss if he doesn’t want this. If he decides that he wants to be a gentleman, it’ll be easy for him to do so; all he’ll have to do is call a taxi and wait until it arrives. He could just dismiss you as another drunk; he must get a lot of them. The driver will help you in and unload you at your flat and that will be that - a night ending more harmless than what you had planned. 

If he doesn’t want this to be harmless…

Well. 

That’s what you’re hoping for. 

That's why your eyes are _not_ easy going, showing clearly that despite the drinks you've had, you have your faculties together, communicating that you know exactly what you're doing here.

Your smile widens when the bright, blazingly white fire of his eyes strays once more down to your cleavage, taking in what you’re offering. 

There’s a silence as he watches you, takes in your lustful face, your outfit, your pose, your actions over the past forty minutes or so. You enjoy watching him coming to his own conclusions. 

“...you helped,” he finally decides, putting the glass he’s been polishing away, abandoning a useless gesture meant more for his own comfort and appearances than actual usefulness. Most patrons can’t deal with a barkeeper that’s standing still, and he likes to have something to do: that’s the only reason why he’s polishing a glass that’s already clean. 

Now that you’re alone with him, it’s finally time to drop the pretenses. 

You walk around the bar with deliberate purpose, your hips shifting back and forth and up and down while you keep Grillby the barkeeper trapped with the intensity of your gaze. 

_Look at me_ , your eyes say with each sway of your hips. _Look at me and desire me_. 

You come to a stop in front of him, the expression in your eyes almost innocent in comparison to what you’ve been giving him before. 

What do you want to do with me? 

What do you want to do _to_ me?

You come to a stop in front of him and the decision is all his. He gets to decide where it goes from here. You know what you want, now it’s time for him to decide what he wants out of this. You shift your weight from one leg to the other, your hip rising from left to right, Grillby’s eyes following the movement. 

His hand his hesitant when he reaches out for you. 

The feeling of his heat connecting with your body through the dress is deeply, viscerally gratifying. 

It connects to you and bleeds into you, the temperature that is apparently normal for him much higher than anything you’re used to. It’s almost _too_ hot, just a fraction shy of being uncomfortable when he rests his hand against your hip. You push into his touch regardless, determined to take what he gives you no matter what. The heat of his desire spreads through your body from where his hand is touching you, burning its way from your hip down your legs and up your torso, through your arms and your neck and your face until it ends in a prickling sensation on your scalp. 

You lift your hand and place it on his upper arm where you can feel the fire of his body shift against the fabric of his clothes. You slip your hands up to his neck, under his shirt and over his back, moving them down until everything you feel is fire. He both is and is not corporeal, his body flickering under your curious fingers as you rake them over his back, the hot tickle of his flames teasing your skin. You lean forwards, lick over his neck and he hisses as the trail of your saliva leaves a darkened patch of dying embers in its wake before his body reignites, sustaining itself like a star on plasma fuel, bright and hot and always moving, shifting, burning. 

He moves his hands down to the hem of your dress, pushing it up along your thighs. You give him an encouraging smile, liking the way his heated hands move against our flesh. 

“I heard some interesting things about monsters,” you whisper against his neck in between the kisses you press against his quivering throat. “I heard monsters and humans can't get pregnant together.” Another kiss. “I heard we can't infect each other.”

You try something new and take one of the flames flickering on his neck between your teeth, tugging, sucking it in until it extinguishes and burns your tongue a little, leaving both you and him groaning. 

“I heard you could do anything you wanted to me, without consequences…”

His hands tighten where they're resting on your thighs, kneading the flesh there. Your encouragement seems to have worked. Without another word, Grillby lifts you effortlessly onto the working table behind the counter of his bar, where normally prepares his drinks. Just at the right height for him to grind into you. 

Your legs spread automatically for him and your dress bunches at your hips with each of his movements. His heavy, heated length grinds satisfyingly against your core, the temperature and girth easily perceptible even through his trousers. He discovers that you're not wearing any underwear this way, that you're already dripping for him, and moans, his voice low. 

You can see the moment when his composure breaks. 

He yanks your legs apart a little wider, simultaneously dragging you to the very edge of the table. His fingers make short work of his belt and the zipper of his neatly ironed pants, the metal and fabric producing soft sounds as he tugs them just low enough for his cock to spring free. 

You barely have time to admire the flaming length before he pushes into you, hilting with the very first thrust. It stretches you satisfyingly and sizzles inside you, doused by your juices and reignited mere moments later, the faint movements of the flames tickling against your walls. 

His hands grab the cheeks of your ass and begin to knead the flesh there as he begins to thrust into you roughly, setting a fast pace right from the start. With his own body temperature and the rapid movements, your entire lower body feels doused in heat in no time at all. Your head falls back and you moan at the treatment, your toes already curling from the pleasure. The entire evening while you had been waiting for him you had felt so empty, and now he’s finally filling you.

Each thrust produces a wet slap, a creak of wood and the rhythmic clink of glasses nudging against each other. 

He bows his head and flickers his lips and tongue against your throat, kissing and sucking in his own way. You feel the sting of tiny little flames instead of the wetness you're used to and your voice hitches higher in response, the new sensations giving the entire experience an extra kick. You wonder if your neck will be covered in small red burn marks instead of the blue bruises of hickeys, and you find that you like the idea. 

One of your hands slips and you fall backwards. Grillby catches you before you can hit your head or back on the counter and lowers you back slowly, allowing you to come to rest on your elbows before he picks up the pace again. You're splayed out openly in front of him now, your legs spread wide on each side of him as he dives into you. You tug the neckline of your dress down and take one of your breasts into your hand, fondling the nipple while you watch his cock vanish repeatedly into your dripping cunt.

Grillby moans at the sight and you join him. 

He changes his angle and pushes you upwards, tearing a high-pitched moan from you as he drags his firey length along your sensitive walls until he hits _just_ the right spot, faster and faster. The entire bar is filled with the clinking and slapping noises, interceded by your rising moans and his own, more quiet ones. 

You can feel his heavy cock twitching inside you and he brings his finger down to your clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves between fingers that are just a little bit too hot until you scream, the combination of pleasure and slight pain catapulting you into a climax that seems to burn your body from the inside out. 

A few rough thrusts later, he comes inside of you with a full-bodied shudder and a final groan, filling you with his heated cum. 

The sensation of his semen inside you is foreign in comparison to what you’re used to; you can feel it trickle out of you slow like lava as he withdraws, leaving a prickling trail of heat in its wake. You decide that you quite like the feeling, actually. 

Grillby stares down at you with lidded eyes and an expression of supreme satisfaction. Probably not much different from the expression you’re wearing. You give him a smile and pull him down for a kiss, slow and languid now that both of you have sated your desires. The wetness of your mouth causes the flicker of fire that functions as his tongue to fizzle in and out, a prickling sensation in your mouth like soda-pop. You can’t help but chuckle. 

He eventually stands back up and leans to the side to grab a clean towel. To your surprise, he cleans you up first, his hands back to a gentle warmth now. He’s careful with you and you enjoy the feeling of his tender movements, being taken care of after the rough fuck. When he’s done you hop down from the table and straighten out your dress while he takes care of himself. 

“Well, that was a wonderful end to a wonderful evening,” you say cheerfully. “Would you mind terribly if I came back every now and then?” 

Grillby watches you for a moment before he shakes his head. Seems like he’s still not one for talking much even after the intimate encounter, but that’s fine, you don’t need him to be a great talker. 

After how the kisses on your throat felt like, you can imagine some much more interesting applications for his mouth anyway. 

“...do you need a taxi?” He finally asks. Such a gentleman. It’s sweet.

“Thanks, but I live close-by,” you tell him with a wink. 

You enjoy the feeling of his eyes on your backside as you saunter out of the bar, unlocking the door to let yourself out. 

Yep. 

You definitely have a thing for monsters now.


End file.
